Christmas Eve Tradition
by mak5258
Summary: A yearly tradition for Severus and Hermione goes off the rails for the better.


The routine of Hogwarts life didn't much lend itself to a social life. At all. He'd thought it was cloistering when he'd been a Head of House, but it was even worse as Headmaster.

Christmas Eve night was his, though. He'd made sure it was in the staff contracts that he got that one night free from school-related _anything_. Barring the one year when half the students who'd stayed at the castle over the holiday break had been bedridden with a nasty flu, it had worked out.

He'd chosen Christmas Eve at random. In the beginning, he hadn't had plans for the time. In fact, for the first few years, he'd simply returned to the ramshackle old house at Spinner's End, gone to bed early, and contented himself with the fact that he was completely out of reach should anybody want anything from him. He'd be back at the castle for Christmas Day, present for whatever small celebration the elves wanted to put on for the students.

It had all changed the year Hermione Granger and the youngest Weasley boy called off their engagement. By pure happenstance, Granger had left whatever pity-party her friends had thrown her following the breakup and ended up in his shitty pub. He'd been slightly sloshed when she walked in, and he'd followed her to the bar to tell her she had to find her own Christmas Eve hidey hole. He'd been a mess, but she'd been a mess too, and they'd ended up in a booth comparing miserable Christmas plans. They'd made a tradition of it ever since.

This year, six years (or maybe seven? possibly only five) later, she was waiting for him. The bartender waved at him as he entered, then pointed to the booth where Hermione sat with a paperback and a beer. By the time Severus took his coat off and sat down, the bartender had a bottle of beer on the table for him as well.

They sat. They talked. They drank. The hours drifted by.

Near midnight, as usual, it occurred to him that he shouldn't be drinking around her. He should've learned his lesson in the years before, but he never did. Or if he did, he let himself forget by the time Christmas Eve came around again.

It wasn't that he'd get drunk and make a fool of himself on their outings, but that his mind started to wander into dangerous territory. He started thinking about how they went out for drinks every year, how they exchanged letters, how she was one of very few people who made a point to "pop up" to the castle for a quick chat when she happened to be in Hogsmeade.

And she was so very clever. And her hair was like a glossy, glowy halo in the crummy light. And she was the only one he knew who liked Muggle mystery novels, especially the bad ones. And she looked _great_ in those Muggle jeans. And… so many things. He tried not to think of a lot of it most of the time, but by midnight on Christmas Eve he just couldn't help himself.

Maybe this year he'd break the tradition and kiss her. Or maybe he'd ask if she wanted a night cap when they got back to Spinner's End rather than just offering her the Floo Powder so she wouldn't have to apparate home. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe…

Severus pushed his beer away. He had to stop drinking, or he'd work himself into a fit of indecision and ruin their night out in an entirely different sort of way.

"Severus?" she asked. She'd been talking about a bill she and her team were trying to put together, something about centaurs that he'd been having trouble following even before his brain had taken off down that dangerous tangent. One of her coworkers was dragging his feet and they were about to run into some sort of deadline, he'd kept up with that much.

"Hermione?" he asked back. Something in his expression had stopped her talking, and he hoped ignoring it would make her go back to talking. He wasn't ready to make a decision among all those maybes.

"You look like you're about to be sick."

"I'm fine."

She frowned at him. She looked like she was about to insist they leave. Maybe he could suggest they go someplace for food instead.

Another goddamn Maybe.

They were interrupted when an elderly man shuffled into the pub. He had oily white hair, a large nose, and a scowl permanently plastered to his face. For a moment, Severus thought he was seeing a ghost.

"Severus?" Hermione asked again, reaching across the table to grab his arm. Her worry was written across her face.

"That's," Severus said, but he couldn't think how to finish the sentence.

"You know him?" Hermione asked, looking back over her shoulder (she always took the side of the booth with her back to the entrance, which was just another thing to like about her since he knew she did it so that he'd be able to watch the door).

Severus nodded when he realized she was still waiting for an answer.

"Should we go say hi?"

"Absolutely not," Severus said, words coming back to him. "That's my father."

"Your _father_?"

"I thought he was dead," Severus said honestly, staring at the man. He'd bumbled his way to a bar stool and had a beer in front of him already.

"I," Hermione said, but seemed to be as much at a loss for words at he was. "Erm. Should we leave?"

His brain looped back to the idea that they go to get food. However, his stomach had tied itself into a giant knot and he wouldn't be able to eat anything anyway.

"I have no idea," Severus said. He couldn't stop staring. The man looked so normal. Old and drunk, but otherwise normal.

"Are you alright?" she asked, looking over her shoulder again.

"It's strange how you can't see what sort of person he is just looking at him," Severus said. "He just looks like some old man."

"The worst ones usually do just look like regular people," Hermione said, biting her lip.

"Let's get out of here," he said, suddenly decisive.

"Right," Hermione said. She went up to the bar to close out their tab, and Severus followed more slowly. He put his coat on and held hers, lingering far enough back that, with any luck, the old man wouldn't notice him.

And then, Tobias Snape groped Hermione. Not a subtle thing, either. He saw her next to him as she spoke to the bartender, leered, then reached over and grabbed her ass.

Severus went cold, then hot. Hermione reacted first, though; she punched the old man in the mouth. Hard.

"Hey!" Tobias shouted, rocking unsteadily back into place on his barstool. There was blood on his teeth. He looked affronted, like he couldn't imagine why she'd react that way.

"Do not touch me," Hermione said, her voice tightly controlled. It hadn't occurred to him that she'd been holding back comment, but of course she was. She'd heard all of his stories about his horrible father and then some.

"Come on, now," Tobias said, wearing his scolded puppydog look.

Severus tasted bile. Before Hermione could say or do anything further, he stepped into the conversation, and it was all he could do to keep himself from hitting the foul man as well.

He didn't say a word, just stood there and glared at his father. The puppydog look turned into a leer again, the familiar black eyes looking between the two of them.

"Be glad that all she did was hit you," Severus said then, too low for the bartender to hear.

The leer drained out of Tobias's face, replaced by horror quickly covered by a sneer of disgust. When he wiped the hand he'd used to grab Hermione on his pants like he'd touched something dirty, Severus punched him as well. The older man fell off the barstool with a heavy thump.

He hadn't felt rage like that in a long time. All the old hatred, every little thing from his childhood, it all rushed back as fresh as if it had been yesterday.

Hermione took his hand, then, and the rage dissipated. He looked down at the old alcoholic, snowy white hair and a bloody nose. He was old and pathetic, and Severus didn't owe him a single second of time or energy anymore.

"You'll never change," he said. He let go of Hermione's hand, holding up her coat instead. She didn't seem to follow his train of thought, but she allowed him to help her into it. He took her hand again after, then led her out the door without looking back.

They walked for the first few blocks in silence. It had begun to snow. It was a beautiful night.

"We'll have to find a new Christmas Eve pub," he said at last. She snorted.

"Or _he_ should," she said. "We were there first."

"Doesn't matter," Severus said.

"Severus," she said when they'd turned the corner onto his street. She'd stopped walking. "What would you think about drinks at the Three Broomsticks next year?"

"They have fine drinks," he said after a moment's hesitation. "But people would talk, you know. _The_ Hermione Granger and _the_ Severus Snape out for drinks, find out where to buy their cloaks on page ten."

"Christmas _Eve_ drinks," she corrected, smirking at him. The expression faded quickly, and he caught a glimpse of the nerves beneath before she managed to hide it. "At the Three Broomsticks. Where people we know will probably see us. And possibly the stupid newspapers, too.'

"What are you really asking, Hermione?" he asked. His heart had started racing, all those Maybes from the pub before his father had shown up jumping to the forefront of his mind again.

"I'm asking you on a date," she said. She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him like he was thick.

"A year in advance?"

"To give you time to get used to the idea," she said.

"Well," he said. "All right, then."

"All right," she echoed.

He smiled. She looked cross with him, but also perfect. The snow had begun to collect on her hair, flakes caught in the nimbus of it. Her eyes gleamed with annoyance and affection both.

"You really want to wait a year?" he asked after a moment's hesitation. He didn't want to throw their friendship to the wind, but he figured he wasn't going to get a better chance, a better moment, to shake things up. They'd already broken just about every part of their Christmas Eve tradition already anyway.

"You could just kiss me now, instead," she said. This time all he could see in her eyes was that brazen Gryffindor spirit. (He should've been annoyed, but he wasn't.)

So he did.

* * *

A/N: I'm a bit rusty at this writing thing, so sorry if this one's kind of clunky. It just felt like a good day for a sweet sort of oneshot. (Merry Christmas!)


End file.
